The Root of Betrayal
by Orodruin
Summary: A failed mission was only the beginning of the White Fang's downfall. He could survive the hatred of the villagers. He could survive the humiliation of his peers. What does it take for the strong and the proud to crumble?
1. This Coming War

The Root of Betrayal

R. Winters

Disclaimer: I don't own people or places from _Naruto_, but the idea's all mine.

ETB (the sequel to _Sphere of Influence_) is coming along a little reluctantly, the beginning needs to be hashed out a little more solidly, and I haven't had the time to focus on it and get a lot done in the last... oh, six months. But I am working on it, and I expect to work through those problems and start posting within the next... two months, maybe (unless things get even busier than I think they will). In the meantime, this story has been coming really easily.

I always thought it was ridiculous that a shinobi of Sakumo's caliber would just shrivel up and die because he failed one stupid mission, even if there was tension between him and the villagers because of it. It would take an awful lot for someone who's been through as much as him to just fall. My solution? He was pushed. Hope you enjoy this little trip into the past. Let me know what you think!

Chapter 1 – This Coming War

Sakumo paused just inside the door, dark eyes swiftly sweeping the room. His expression hardened and his shoulders became a little squarer.

"Gatsu." The tanned, thick-set man nodded at him, his face set grimly. His dark hair was buzzed short and the rigid scars running down the left side of his face looked particularly taut.

"Haru." The thin man glanced at him with nervous red eyes. His lithe muscles were tense and his face worried under a shaggy, haphazard haircut. He looked away again quickly.

"Sayuri-san." The woman managed a tight smile in his direction, but like the two men, her face was weathered and worn and her manner was preoccupied as she slid a length of stringy brown hair behind her ear, turning away again.

"Hokage-sama," Sakumo acknowledged last, turning to the older man who had summoned him. "This must be serious if you've brought the four of us together again."

Gatsu grunted and Sakumo wasn't quite sure if it was an agreement or scorn.

"Yes," the Sandaime confirmed grimly, but didn't continue. He looked towards the door pointedly and Sakumo stepped back to lock it firmly, wards rising into place as the lock connected.

The Hokage leaned forward over his desk, frowning soberly around the group and began in a low tone. "Our sources have revealed a mass of Iwagakure forces just inside their borders. Two weeks from today, representatives from Sunagakure and Kusagakure will be joining them."

"The evidence that our spies have managed to glean indicate that they are plotting to strike against us," the Sandaime continued grimly. "Your mission… is to sabotage this meeting. There are to be no witnesses that can trace you back to this village, and the representatives of the three countries must not survive. Iwa-nin casualties are considered acceptable but not necessary for the success of this mission."

He leveled each of the four shinobi with a stern look. "I want all of you to understand how important this mission is. If Iwa, Suna, and Kusa form a pact against us, it could very well be the end of Leaf."

"A war is coming, and it may very well be inevitable at this point. But it is imperative that we ensure it is one we can survive."

* * *

Silence pressed heavily around the four shinobi, sitting under the waning light of the silvery moon as it drifted between bare branches.

Sakumo sat with his shoulder blades against a thick tree, watching the motions of Sayuri's brush as the detonation specialist scripted another tag. He glanced up at a shuffling to his left and offered a tight smile to Haru as the lithe man paused at his side.

Taking the expression as an invitation, Haru hunched down beside him.

"What have you come up with?" He asked without preamble, his voice tight and the inflection high with anxiety.

Sakumo sighed, shifting to turn his attention more fully towards his teammate.

"… They're relying too heavily on the cliff as a natural barrier and protection for the camp," he supplied at length. "The other sides are protected by the army, so that will be their weak spot."

Sakumo paused, and a glance up revealed that the other two were listening, as well. He shifted forward slightly and began drawing in the dusty ground with his finger.

"They chose an ideal location to host the meeting. The Itchigawa River runs to the North," he drew a thick, curved line in the ground, "Preventing mass travel through this area. Add to that this forest on the east," he made short, rapid lines in the dirt, "And potential enemies would be unable to bring in the kind of heavy equipment needed to take out the entire camp."

He moved left to the empty patch of dirt and sketched the rough lines of the cliffs. "This will most likely be the location they've chosen for their meeting," he added, drawing in the square tent they had seen nestled in the bodice of the cliffs. "And in addition to the natural barriers of the river, forest, and cliff, they've positioned the barracks to the North, East, and West." He drew in the three long tents and tapped firmly on the cliff.

"Unless we want to mess with a hundred battle ready shinobi, we have to hit the cliff," he supplied, "It's their one weak spot."

Sayuri scowled. "You aren't thinking, Sakumo," she growled. "These are Iwa-nin," she stressed, "They want us to attack the cliff. They're prepared to deal with that—that's why they've so brazenly set their dignitaries at its feet."

Gatsu made a noise of agreement and Haru's head bobbed.

"If we go after the cliff, they'll erect shields before anything can get through," the thin man added, "We've seen it before. We'd be dead meat and the mission would be a spectacular failure."

"I'm not suggesting we blow it up," Sakumo said patiently. He drew X's along the top of the cliff. "We take out their sentries just before dawn, and then we're going down the cliff, into the heart of their camp." He stabbed the square tent at the bottom again.

"Even at night, their guards will be watching," Gatsu grunted.

"They'll pick us off that cliff like flies," Sayuri agreed.

Sakumo snorted and sent a pointed look across at Haru. "That's what we've got him for."

The thin man colored slightly, his neck and ears burning red. "I don't know about that, Sakumo," he said anxiously, "A hundred people… that's too many."

"It's closer to a hundred and fifty," Gatsu corrected roughly.

Haru's face reddened further and sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Haru," Sakumo interceded firmly, "I know you have what we need. It's why the Hokage sent you, after all. Your Genjutsu will hide us during the decent. Besides, it will be early and most of the men will be in their tents. You only need to hide us from the lookouts."

"I… can do that," Haru said faintly, still pink around the face, "Maybe."

"With us down, Haru will remain at the top to cover for the sentries," Sakumo added. "We're going to have to hide ourselves in the camp until the meeting takes place and the targets are together. Sayuri will use her jutsu to plant the bombs. If necessary, Gatsu and I will instigate a distraction here." He pointed to the tent running along the cliffs on the east.

"Things are going to be close," he added, "But we've done things tougher than this."

Gatsu snorted in disbelief.

"The incident in Waterfall," Sakumo reminded him, "Of everyone, I would think you'd remember that, Gatsu." It was, after all, where the larger man had gotten the scars on his face, and a set to match across his shoulders.

Haru let out a breathy, nervous laugh which the thick-set man stifled with a glare.

"Still," Sayuri leaned over Sakumo's rough drawing and smeared her thumb over the square meeting tent. "You've only gotten us in, Sakumo. That place is a death trap."

The silver-haired man sighed and leaned back again. "There won't be any easy way out," he muttered uncomfortably. "Our best chance will be Itchigawa River. If we can make it there, the current will carry us east."

"That's a big IF," Gatsu grumbled.

"It is," Sakumo agreed grudgingly. "We might not all make it. Our best chance will be to pull out through the second and third tents." He pointed. "They'll be expecting us to head east, through the first and second, or even along the cliff, so the guards will be heavier. If we angle back into Rock Country, we'll have an element of surprise."

He looked at the scribbled drawing of the base and then at his teammates gathered around him.

"If it's us… we still have a chance," he muttered.

* * *

It was a dark, moonless pre-dawn. The four Konoha-nin had their hitai-ate safely tucked away in their pockets, and their mouths covered to prevent the enemy from seeing the gleam of their teeth.

The Iwa-nin were on guard; walking the cliffs in tense groups of twos and threes.

Sakumo and his team worked swiftly and silently; twisting necks and piercing through the throat or the eye to expedite and eliminate the often noisy throes of death. They were an efficient and deadly group, passing in shadow and blood.

Haru looked slightly green as they flattened themselves against the ground and crawled to the edge of the cliff, peering down at the camp below.

"I don't think I can do this," he worried in a strained whisper.

"You know you can," Sayuri hissed back, shooting the man a glare. "Stop acting like such a coward!"

Color began to bleed into the man's neck and ears. "I just… really don't think I can do this… Sakumo."

Gatsu grunted in irritation and Sayuri growled at Sakumo's side.

The silver haired man sighed softly. "You can do this, Haru," he said with exasperation. "You're among the top Genjutsu experts in the village—on par with the Uchiha, even. You can do this," he repeated when Haru began to protest, "Remember that time in Lightning Country? This will be child's play in comparison."

Haru squeaked out a strangled sort of whimper.

"He's been useless since that incident at Yoru Harbor last spring," Sayuri grumbled beside him. "I don't know why the Hokage insisted we bring him. It should've been an Uchiha—this guy's nothing more than a simpering poltroon."

Haru flushed at the insult. "It's not like that! I just… I don't want to be the one that screws this up. Not only will you three be dead; but the village will be destroyed and it'll be my fault. You don't know what it's like to have that kind of pressure riding on your shoulders!" He sighed and shook his head, shaggy hear flopping in his eyes, "I don't know why the Hokage chose me for this, either."

"Of course I don't know what it's like," the woman scoffed with irritation, "I just set the bombs, is that it?"

"Dawn's coming," Gatsu pointed out gruffly.

Sakumo nodded, "Gatsu's right, you two. We don't have time to argue over this. Haru—the Hokage chose you because us four work well together. We've tackled difficult missions before, and you've always come through for us in the past, just like I know you'll come through for us this time. What happened at Yoru Harbor was a one-time thing. I know you've been training since then, and you're even stronger now. You won't let us down."

Haru was conspicuously silent and Sakumo didn't linger for a reply.

"Gatsu, Sayuri," he ordered, "Let's get over."

Together the two men crawled forward, easing themselves over the edge slowly and carefully.

"And Haru," Sayuri added, taking the time to pin the thin man with a final glare, "If you do screw this up… I'll kill you."

Haru swallowed nervously as the kunoichi followed the others over the edge. He took a long, shuddering breath and peered over the edge again, first at his teammates and then at the watch fires below. Red eyes ringed with worry, his hands moved quickly through familiar strings of seals and sweat beaded on his brow as he began to weave his illusion.

* * *

"Left—three." Gatsu's low voice was pitched to carry no further than the ears of his teammates.

Sakumo and Sayuri needed no further direction. They continued down until they reached the position their teammate had vacated before moving across the cliff—left, three meters—and then continued their descent.

"Right—one. Down—one. Right—one half."

It was slow, tedious work, climbing on a cliff face riddles with traps and alarms. But with one of the best ANBU-trained counter-intelligence guiding their trail, they'd yet to run into anything more dangerous than a startled, fist-sized spider, which skittered away from the group rather than instigate conflict.

"Left—two. Down—one. Right—four."

Sakumo wasn't worried. Gatsu was very good at what he did and he trusted the larger man with his life. He trusted each member of his cell, and he'd worked with them all in the past. But as they drew nearer to the camp below, and their path became increasingly complicated, the one he was really concerned about was Haru.

"Right—three quarters. Up—one half. Right—two."

Because Haru hadn't been the same since he'd lost his team at Yoru Harbor, and he wasn't the man Sakumo remembered working with in the past. For all his professed confidence, he couldn't help but worry.

Haru had cracked under the pressure once, and he very well might do so again.

"Right—five. Down—three. Left—one and a half. Up—three quarters. Left—two thirds."

Sakumo resisted the urge to look up. He wouldn't be able to see Haru, anyway, and his teammates didn't need to know about his doubts. He needed to believe Haru was as good as he knew he was. He needed to believe the Hokage hadn't made a mistake in assigning the debunked shinobi to this mission.

"Angle—three right, two down."

* * *

Their dark uniforms were spotted with sweat and covered in a layer of dust and dirt when they finally stepped on the ground in the orange-red glow of dawn. They barely dared to breathe as they moved along the foot of the cliff, crouched low with careful steps.

It wouldn't be the sound that would give them away, Sakumo thought wryly, still sandwiched between his two teammates, it would be the smell.

Pressing against the face of the cliff, the Jounin disappeared, swallowed up by their surroundings.

They remained where they were, frozen perfectly still, silent. And they waited, watching as the Iwa camp slowly began to wake.

* * *

Haru retreated from the edge of the cliff the moment he was certain his teammates were on the ground. He felt a brief wash of relief, but the tension returned quickly because his job wasn't even near finished.

Sakumo and the others were in the camp, and if they were realized the mission would be over almost before it began. They'd be able to hide themselves well enough as long as they didn't move, but that was only half the problem.

The lithe man grimaced as one of the radios they'd taken off the sentries hissed to life. He reached for it and hastily slipped the earpiece onto his head.

Sweat gathered on his brow again as he performed a new set of hand seals and waited a second longer than necessary to be sure it had taken affect. The voice in his ear demanded he report and he would already be arousing suspicion.

"Tango-Delta-Charlie-Two-One-One," he supplied, the nervousness on his face carefully schooled out of his voice. "Situation normal."

He bluffed his way through the rest of the conversation, and breathed a sigh of relief when he took the headset off a few seconds later.

But it wasn't over and he still had a long ways to go. Looking despairingly at the confiscated radios, Haru glanced at the tags before reluctantly picking up the next set. He set it over his ear just in time—the speaker crackled as he was ordered to report in.

Swiftly, he formed the hand seals again.

_Genjutsu: Gamashii On!_

* * *

"She said if that's how I felt, I could do it myself."

"No way—not Chitsuke-san!"

"And she meant it, too—packed her bags and went to her sister's that same night."

"That's hilarious! What are you—"

Sayuri hid, frozen, her chakra suppressed and a basic Genjutsu disguising her presence as the two guards passed, chatting quietly. She didn't move. She didn't even breathe until they were well past her.

Finally, the third representative appeared from between the third tent and the face of the cliff. He was dressed in grays and greens, with a hitai-ate displaying his allegiance to Kusagakure and long brown hair down around his shoulders.

Three Kusa-nin were with him, and the group moved at a relaxed pace towards the square tent where the representatives from Suna and Iwa were already waiting. The guarded way they watched the Iwa-nin belied the casual front they attempted to produce.

Sayuri's lip twitched very slightly. They were right to be nervous. The Iwa-nin would as soon put a kunai in their back; after all, they were here plotting betrayal and war already.

With the three representatives inside, Iwa-nin seemed to crawl out of every corner; the guard doubled or tripled. They knew how important this meeting was, and they would take every precaution to ensure its success.

It was too bad for them that Konoha was taking every precaution to ensure that it failed.

Moving with slow, measured, soundless steps, Sayuri shifted across to a more accessible position. Very slowly, she pulled one of the tags she'd prepared from her pouch.

The woman closed her eyes briefly, steadying her chakra and ensuring the Genjutsu was still securely in place. If she was caught so quickly, even a distraction wouldn't save her.

Opening them again, the kunoichi's fingers began to form seals, moving fluidly around the paper clutched between her thumbs. She concluded with her thumbs and middle fingers pressed against each other through the paper, angled towards the nearest corner of the tent.

_Bakudan Enkin!_

With a flare of chakra, the seal that she'd painstakingly scripted vanished from the paper and reappeared on the folds of the tent fifteen meters away.

Sayuri took a quick intake of breath and closed her eyes, focusing inwards; strengthening and doubling the effort she was spending on her Genjutsu. Already the voices of the guards were raised in alarm. She couldn't allow them to find her, but she had to finish quickly.

The swarming Iwa-nin suddenly began running, and a brief glance to the right clearly revealed the reason. Sakumo and Gatsu had revealed themselves. It was time to finish things.

Swiftly, she pulled another tag from her pouch, and began the seals again, this time aiming towards the second corner of the tent.

* * *

Gatsu broke out of hiding the instant he felt Sayuri's chakra. He formed seals before the Iwa-nin even noticed him. He slammed his hand into the ground just as the alarm was raised and spikes of rock ripped through the earth.

The jutsu immediately drew the attention of the Iwa-nin as their comrades were knocked brutally through the air—two of their brethren impaled on the sharp stone that was so often their ally.

Gatsu drew a pair of kunai, one in each hand, and was blocking enemy projectiles almost before his jutsu had run its course.

Konoha's White Fang appeared, then, bursting out of nowhere in a whirlwind of white and blood as his chakra blade ripped through the shinobi attacking his teammate. Three were dead before the shouts were taken up.

The Iwa-nin pulled back; scattered in groups of threes and fours around them, nervous anticipation thick in the air. Gatsu moved to stand back-to-back with Sakumo, both shinobi breathing heavily from the sudden burst of action.

"Should you have used that jutsu?" The gruff man asked quietly without looking at his teammate.

"They would've recognized me, anyway," Sakumo excused. There were few who couldn't, after his feats in the Second Secret War.

Gatsu grunted; "Time to act."

Without acknowledging the statement, Sakumo was back in motion, white chakra leaping up his tantō again. Behind him, Gatsu's hands flashed through seals as Sayuri's chakra flashed through the air a second time.

The spikes exploded into rocks ranging from fist to head sizes. They flew through the air in controlled madness, purposely bursting away from the two Konoha shinobi. The Iwa-nin were battered, but while the front ranks took a moment to recover, those behind them were already attacking.

Sakumo sprang to meet them like a loosed dog, the short sword that gave him his name ripping through his enemies with fervor. He took two off guard, blocked on the right, and swung the sword around to cleave the head from his enemy.

Three were already at his back. The Jounin struck one with a mule kick, and managed to bring his blade around in time to block the kunai of the second. He spun out of the way of the third, but felt the sting of a graze on his hip. Ignoring it, he pushed through on the second, cracking the resisting arm and plunging his sword through the man's chest, then tearing it free again as four more shinobi pressed in around him.

They felt the third flare of chakra from Sayuri, but both men were too involved in their struggles to cast a jutsu of their own. The Iwa-nin felt it, too, and there was nothing to be done as a fraction of the forces at the rear broke off in search of their third teammate.

Gatsu was quickly running low on kunai, too pressed by subsequent attacks to reclaim any he used in his own. His thick arm blocked a blow meant for his face, the kunai digging deep and hitting bone while the majority of his attention was focused on the pair of shinobi relentlessly striking from his right.

Pain flared in the man's senses, overtaking him for just an instant, and his head was crushed in from behind—the Konoha-nin's body burst into smoke and the man reappeared a meter and a half to his right, head swimming as blood ran swiftly from his left arm.

He threw the kunai he was holding, hitting one of the Iwa-nin he'd been attacked by a moment before through the neck and another on the side of the chest.

A fourth flare of chakra assured the two Leaf-nin that Sayuri was still safe, for the moment. Sakumo pushed his own chakra into his legs and sliced the chest of a man open as he leaped out of the tight group, landing in time to cut through two of the shinobi harassing Gatsu.

"We need to get out of here," he said, the words escaping him in a breathless burst, spinning to meet the shinobi who'd followed him.

Gatsu grunted a pained response, "Anytime."

* * *

Sayuri let out a curse when a flock of kunai flew down at her as she was preparing another explosion tag. Unable to complete the jutsu, she let the tag fall and leaped out of the way, a cry of pain escaping her as five kunai embedded themselves in her legs. She bit clean through her lower lip as she landed, her jaws clenching to keep in a second shout. Her legs buckled underneath her as pain battered her nervous system and she went down, catching herself in a crouch with her hands.

The Iwa-nin approached her slowly, forming a ring around her and Sayuri cursed, spitting out a mouthful of blood and glaring up at them.

If they thought they could take her alive—she'd show them something else.

Her legs cried out in painful protest when she lifted her hands, her weight entirely resting on her injured limbs again. The Iwa-nin rushed in, but she'd already formed her seal, and the dropped explosion tag burst into flames and force, catching almost half the ring of shinobi in its blast and knocking Sayuri on her back.

She grinned with bloodstained lips as the enemy closed in to kill her before she could cause further damage, but their kunai never connected because flaming white steel sliced through flesh, muscle, and bone like it wasn't even there.

Relief washed over her until she saw the dozens of Iwa-nin closing in on them, trailing after her teammates like a pack of starving craven.

It was as good as over, but she could think of worse ways to go. Her eyes flicked across to the tent as Sakumo and Gatsu rushed around her, taking out the remaining Iwa-nin that had had her cornered—admittedly, Sakumo was taking out more than his share, Gatsu's left arm hanging dead by his side.

"Sakumo," she croaked hoarsely as the man threw a handful of shuriken in the direction of the fast-approaching enemies. "I'm going to blow it, but I need time."

Black eyes snapped down at her quickly, narrowed and hard. For a second, he didn't reply, then he shook his head, bending over her as Gatsu unleashed another earth jutsu at the closing Iwa-nin.

"We can still make it out of this," he said gruffly, easing an arm under her shoulders. "I'll carry you; you can blow it now, as we run."

"I don't have enough," Sayuri argued, "I need at least one more detonator; three would be ideal—you can keep them off of me long enough to finish the job."

"This should be plenty," Sakumo reasoned.

"We need more, Sakumo," Sayuri said firmly, reaching for her pouch.

Gatsu grunted in pain as he matched blades with the first of their adversaries to arrive. Sakumo glanced at him briefly and then looked back at his teammate, shaking his head. He scooped under her injured legs with his other arm and hefted her weight as he stood. Sayuri swallowed another cry of pain.

"We're getting out of here," the silver-haired man said sternly. "Four will be enough."

Shifting the woman's body over one shoulder, he used his freed hand to throw several kunai at the closest Iwa-nin. "Gatsu!" He snapped sharply. They had to end this.

"Sakumo!" Sayuri cried in protest, but it fell on deaf ears—Sakumo was already moving.

He was past the tent in a matter of seconds, spinning in midair to meet enemy strikes and pushing them away or twisting around to repay them strike for strike—and his met flesh more often than not. Gatsu took several seconds longer to catch up with them and Sakumo's arm tightened around the woman's torso.

"Sayuri, you have to do it now," he ordered firmly, his hard tone leaving no room for the argument on the tip of the woman's tongue.

Scowling, she awkwardly performed the seals for her final technique, and released the fury of four of her homemade explosive tags on one site.

The force of the explosion was enough to knock even the retreating Konoha-nin from their feet. Sakumo's grip faltered and Sayuri tumbled across the ground, the pain finally pushing her into oblivion. Gatsu was thrown through the air, and he landed among an unfortunate group of Iwa-nin—he could barely see through the pain to defend himself. Sakumo himself managed to stick his landing, rolling to his feet when he hit the ground.

The remains of the tent were smoking at the base of the cliff, and Iwa-nin were rushing towards it in hoards, anxious to protect their leaders. But not all of them had forgotten about the intruders and as many as were rushing towards the tent—more were running towards them.

Cursing under his breath, Sakumo formed a string of hand seals in a second, throwing a burst of white-hot lightning flying towards the approaching men. He sprinted across to Sayuri, took an instant to feel for the woman's thready pulse, and heaved her back onto his shoulder before searching the streets for his second teammate.

"Gatsu!" He shouted as his eyes landed on the man, face down in a pool of blood surrounded by the bodies of Iwa-nin.

The man stirred, arms twitching and shoulders shifting, but he couldn't make it to his feet and the Iwa-nin were closing on them again.

Cursing a second time, Sakumo rushed to his teammate's side. Things could hardly have turned worse; but at least they were still alive. He grabbed the man's arm with his free hand and heaved him upright. Gatsu's legs trembled underneath him and his face was slick with sweat and blood.

Sakumo pushed his arm under the man's shoulders, supporting the majority of the man's weight against his side.

His jaw tightened as he began to run, Sayuri over one shoulder and Gatsu half-dragging at his side.


	2. Fall From Grace

The Root of Betrayal

_R. Winters_

Disclaimer: I don't own _Naruto_.

Thanks for supporting this and reviewing-I've really been enjoying writing Sakumo as the main character... but it's a little weird having so little Kakashi. Anyway, I've been super busy lately, so I don't really have time to reply to reviews anymore (very sorry); think final's week times 10 and you've probably got about what I'm dealing with right now... It's been interesting to say the least. But, hearing what you all think of this is still one of the few bright spots in my day, so thanks for easing the stress a little! Here's the next chapter, hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 2 – Fall from Grace

Sakumo grunted, dragging Sayuri and Gatsu out of the river behind him. He collapsed beside them, breathing heavily and feeling the aches and pains from the battle and subsequent escape.

He groaned and forced his eyes open. They weren't out of trouble yet. The Iwa-nin would not be far behind. He stared at the sky for a moment, gaining his bearings. With two unresponsive burdens, his estimation of twenty minutes had lengthened to thirty—which meant they had even less of a lead than he'd hoped.

Tiredly, he dragged himself to his feet, and then pulled his teammates further away from the water and checked their vital signs. Both of them had weak heartbeats, and Sayuri was looking particularly pale.

Even without the threat of enemy ninja hot on their heels, his teammates needed to get back to Fire Country, where they could at least get some basic medical care before continuing to Konoha's hospital.

He turned and headed to the edge of the forest.

"Haru!" He called out, walking a short length of the trees. He didn't actually expect to get a response. They were late—Haru would have moved on to the border by now, assuming they had missed each other.

Sakumo grumbled ungraciously under his breath. It would have been a lot easier if their fourth teammate was with them. Haru would have been able to carry Sayuri, and they would have moved faster with only one burden each.

The silver-haired man supposed he really shouldn't be complaining. At least he wasn't so badly injured as his teammates.

Sighing, he walked back across to them and crouched down, lifting Gatsu first and awkwardly positioning the heavy man on his back, which throbbed in protest. Ignoring the discomfort, Sakumo quickly lashed the man's wrists together, and then his feet, to keep him in place. He shifted awkwardly until he could reach Sayuri, and lifted the woman in his arms.

Standing was a struggle, but Sakumo managed, weighted down by the two unconscious shinobi, and set a swift pace towards the border.

* * *

Just after sunset, by some miracle, Sakumo crossed the border into Fire Country. Twenty minutes later he made it to the North Konoha Outpost, where he had a brief confrontation with the station master before he could confirm his identity and those of his teammates.

"There isn't much we can do for them," Namori, the station master, admitted as he helped the White Fang carry his teammates to the sickbay. "Their injuries appear quite extensive. The best thing will be to get them back to Konoha as quickly as possible."

Sakumo nodded his agreement. "That's what I was planning. We'll rest here for the night—hopefully, your people can stabilize them—and then Haru and I will take them home in the morning."

"Haru?" Namori asked, glancing up as he placed Gatsu on one of the cots.

"Yuuhi Haru," Sakumo supplied, frowning back, "Didn't he come in earlier?"

The stern-faced man shook his head firmly. "He didn't come in here."

Sakumo frowned down at his teammate as he placed her on a second cot.

"But that doesn't necessarily mean anything," Namori added quickly, "He probably went on ahead to Konoha."

Sakumo grunted a doubtful reply. Haru would have stuck to the plan. He would have been at the meeting place near the river—and if they hadn't arrived, he would have continued to this outpost.

"Do you have any runners that can head down to Konoha with us in the morning?" He asked at length, putting the matter out of his mind for the moment. It was conceivable that something had prevented Haru from joining them in time. He might arrive sometime during the night, or even as much as a day or two later.

Namori shook his head. "All out at the moment. Rashi-san isn't due back until the day after tomorrow, and the others will be gone even longer." He gave the White Fang a measuring look, "You want to wait that long?"

Quickly, the silver-haired man shook his head. "No. They need to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I should be able to do it myself after getting some sleep."

* * *

It was late in the night—or early in the morning, depending on how he looked at it—when Hatake Sakumo returned to the village. Gatsu was lashed across his back again, and Sayuri was in his arms.

Sakumo barely met the eyes of the guard on duty, vaulting over Konoha's protective outer wall and moving swiftly into the village. It was a route he'd taken many times, but rarely with such urgency.

Less than four minutes later he was helping the medics gently ease Gatsu and Sayuri onto gurneys in the hospital waiting room. One man stayed behind while a number of medics rushed the two injured shinobi further into the hospital—Sakumo didn't really hear the words he said, but he dutifully appended his signature to the papers thrust under his nose.

"Sakumo-san," the medic repeated his name forcefully enough to break through the shinobi's clouded mind.

The White Fang blinked, looking from the papers in front of him—he'd missed the signature line on the last one—to the medic. "I'm sorry, what?"

The medic frowned and withdrew his papers, tucking them under his arm and assessing the Jounin. "I think we should take a look at you while you're here," he announced.

Sakumo stared at him blankly for a moment, processing the words, and then shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I'm not injured—just tired." It had been a long couple of days.

The medic's eyes moved down his form, "Are you sure about that?"

Sakumo followed his gaze—his uniform was stained with blood. "I'm sure," he said grimly, looking back up. "I have to report to the Hokage."

The medic's frown deepened, "You should go straight home, Sakumo-san. I can tell you're very tired, even if you're not injured. Surely the Hokage can wait a few hours for your report."

* * *

Sakumo shot him a dry look but didn't reply. He turned without waiting for further arguments and headed out the door again as quickly as he'd come.

It was still dark when Sakumo left the weary Sandaime in his office, and a few hours before dawn when he silently slipped through his own front door. The house was dark and silent and Sakumo preserved that silence, quietly dropping his filthy equipment at the door.

He felt exhausted, from the stressful mission and the days of traveling afterwards. He didn't turn on any lights as he made his way to his bedroom, easing himself down on the western style bed.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, for almost ten minutes before he couldn't take it anymore. Despite his exhaustion, he was restless. With his teammates in the hospital, Haru missing, and the outcome of their mission still unknown, it didn't feel like it was over. It felt like he should still be doing something.

Peeling off his soiled uniform, Sakumo examined himself briefly. It hadn't been an easy fight, and he had the cuts and bruises to prove it. The Jounin scowled at a particularly deep gash on his chest, inflamed and bleeding sluggishly.

He grabbed a fresh uniform from his closet and made his way to the bathroom to dress the worst of his injuries. Clean clothes tucked under one arm, he stopped to shuffle through the hall closet for a towel and the first aid kit. When he stepped back to shut the door, he stopped short—a small, white-haired boy stood in the hall in front of him, staring at him with dark, solemn eyes and a kunai clutched in one small hand.

"… Put that away, Kakashi," Sakumo said tiredly, turning away to head into the bathroom.

Kakashi tucked the kunai away in the small holder on his left leg and followed after his father, feet padding quietly across the floor. "You're hurt," the boy noted, concern ringing in his young voice.

Sakumo glanced back at him and sighed, leaving the door open as he stacked his things by the door and sat on the toilet, first aid kit in hand. "Everyone gets hurt sometimes, Kakashi."

Standing in the doorway, the boy nodded, watching as he sorted through the kit's contents, pulling out a small container of pungent antibacterial cream to apply to his cuts.

"… I can help with the bandages," the boy offered, shifting awkwardly at the door.

Sakumo shot him a tired smile, "It's okay, Kakashi. I've got it."

"… Sensei says I'm very good at tying bandages," the boy persisted, taking a step inside the room.

Sakumo glanced at the little boy again. Kakashi stared back with somber black eyes over a small, concerned frown. The man let out a breathy laugh, removing the roll of fresh white bandages from the kit. He held it out towards the boy.

"Alright, Kakashi," he agreed with a small smile, "Show me."

A quick, shy smile flashed briefly on the boy's face before he grabbed the bandages and got to work, fingers nimble and eyes concentrated on his work. His father felt a rush of pride replacing the restless anxiety and he slowly began to relax under Kakashi's ministrations.

* * *

"Otousan, will you train with me today?" Kakashi asked, eyes bright and eager.

Sakumo purposely finished another bite of his breakfast before answering. "Not today, Kakashi."

"Tomorrow?" The boy asked.

Sakumo considered for a moment. "Maybe. If Minato-sensei agrees."

A grin crossed the six-year-old's face quickly, "He will!"

The Jounin frowned, "Don't tell him I said you have to this time. If he has something planned for you, you should respect that and go to train with him as usual."

The boy's expression sobered a little, although his eyes were still bright as he nodded. "Okay."

Sakumo's frown deepened a little with suspicion. "I mean it, Kakashi. I don't want you to make him think he has to, or that I'll be upset with him if he doesn't. Your sensei is… an emotional man; I don't want you taking advantage of that."

"I wouldn't do that!" Kakashi exclaimed a little too quickly, "Minato-sensei is my commanding officer, of course I respect him."

The man's suspicious eyes lingered a moment longer before he gave a short nod and returned to his breakfast. "That's how it should be, at least," he muttered.

Kakashi quickly finished the rest of his breakfast and was out the door in a matter of minutes. Shaking his head, Sakumo cleaned up the kitchen before heading out himself.

* * *

The hospital was quiet early in the morning. Sakumo waited near the front desk until a girl was finished speaking with the attendant.

"I'm here to see my teammates," he supplied when he approached the desk. "Gatsu and Sayuri; they were admitted last night."

The young woman blushed a little and mumbled something about checking as she shuffled through a few papers. She frowned and looked up at the man.

"I'm sorry, Sakumo-sama… but Gatsu-san and Sayuri-san are not being allowed visitors at this time."

Sakumo frowned, "They aren't still in surgery?"

The girl shook her head. "They're in the critical care unit."

"… I see," Sakumo said reluctantly. He forced a smile, "Well, I'll just check back later."

"I'm really sorry, Sakumo-sama!" The young woman called after him.

The man waved off her apology with a hand over his shoulder as he turned away, muscles wound tightly again. He headed straight for the training grounds.

* * *

For four days, the hospital staff continued to tell him Gatsu and Sayuri were not allowed visitors. For four days, Sakumo begged out of training with Kakashi, training himself hard after failed attempts to check on the status of his teammates, his nerves winding themselves tightly.

Finally, five days after returning from Rock, Sakumo was told he could visit Sayuri—Gatsu, however, still was not permitted to have visitors.

He found her room quickly: a small, single-bed room on the second floor. He hesitated outside, taking a deep breath before continuing in, anxious over what he might find.

Sayuri's face was pale and her complexion had clouded over. She was asleep—or drugged, more likely—her breathing unnaturally slow and even.

Sparing a glance at the equipment tied into the kunoichi, Sakumo picked up the chart at the foot of his bed, glancing over the numbers and concise sentences while attempting to make sense of the medical jargon.

"They managed to stabilize her overnight."

Sakumo turned in surprise, eyes narrowing as they landed on the Head of ANBU Operatives. The muscular, dark skinned man wasn't even looking at him, standing like a stone just inside the door and staring past him at his teammate.

"Danzo-sama," Sakumo acknowledged stiffly, knuckles white on the clipboard. "What are you doing here?"

Danzo ignored the question, looking down at the bed-ridden woman. "Unfortunately, she'll never be a ninja again. Both of her legs had to be amputated."

Sakumo's eyes lowered to his teammate's body again, following it down to the abrupt end of her legs, barely more than half of the way down the bed. His stomach flipped with nausea and he swallowed hard.

"Gatsu didn't fare much better," Danzo continued, taking the chart from Sakumo and returning it to its place on the bed. "One of his lungs was too far gone to save. He'll be restricted to D-rank missions, if he even wakes up at all. He can't even teach in the Academy at this point."

Sakumo didn't say anything. There wasn't anything he could say.

Danzo looked at him. "I wonder if they'll thank you for saving their lives."

"… What do you want, Danzo?" Sakumo asked coldly. "I can't change what's already been done, no matter how much you talk."

Again, Danzo ignored the question. "The Hokage wants to see you. Our representative in Earth was killed this morning. The Rock-nin kindly delivered his head to our border patrol."

Sakumo locked his jaw and glared at the foot of the bed. "What about Grass and Wind?"

"One of our spies returned from Kusa and is meeting with the Hokage right now." Danzo supplied coolly, "A report was sent in from Suna yesterday." He turned to leave and paused, one hand on the door, "Be at the Tower in one hour."

Sakumo said nothing, but once he'd heard the door close behind the man, he let out a slow, heavy sigh.

His eyes rose to stare at the woman again. He'd known Sayuri since she was teamed with him and Gatsu for a mission when they were Chuunin. From the beginning she'd been a tough girl, easily able to hold her own against two rowdy young shinobi.

But this—Sakumo wasn't sure that she could beat this. The Second Secret War had left a number of shinobi handicapped to the point that they could no longer function as ninja. Most of them were dead within a year; only a small fraction had integrated into civilian society and made places for themselves.

A shinobi never really retires—he dies or he becomes useless. Most shinobi prefer the former.

Grimly, Sakumo turned away, ignoring the tremble in his hands.

* * *

The Hokage sat slumped in his chair, hands folded on the table and expression weary and worn. Sakumo had known him since he was a young man—the teacher of Jiraiya, Tsunade, and Orochimaru—but he hardly recognized the Sandaime as he was.

Standing behind him, and a little to his right, Danzo stood like a dark shadow, his stony face stern and unhappy and his cold black eyes sharp and calculating.

The old man sighed heavily. "Earth has all but declared war. They have murdered Namaru and are gathering the necessary forces to back them. It will only be a matter of days before it becomes official."

Sakumo didn't reply, staring grimly at the Hokage's desk.

"Many Rock-nin reported seeing Konoha's White Fang at the attack on Earth territory," the Sandaime continued, "So they are claiming that we breached the contract first and are attempting to rally supporters among the other nations."

"… What about Grass and Sand?" Sakumo asked uneasily.

"Sand is just as angry with Rock as they are with us right now," the Sandaime supplied dryly, "They were promised the safety of their representative and blame Rock as much as they blame us for his death. Of course, since they can't admit they were secretly meeting with Rock, they are only openly blaming Rock for killing one of their own."

"And Grass…" The man sighed, shaking his head. "It could go either way with Grass, at the moment. Their representative did survive the attack, however he was gravely injured. So far, they seem to be maintaining a tenuous alliance with Rock, but it may not last long."

"Rock will find a way to explain away and downplay the meeting and the forces they had so close to our border," Sakumo mused grimly, "When that happens, it might sway Grass—and even Sand—to their side."

The Hokage nodded gravely. "It very well might."

Sakumo sighed and bowed his head. "I apologize, Hokage-sama… We did what we could, but there were just too many of them."

"I know, Sakumo," the Sandaime agreed tiredly.

Danzo took a step forward, his dark eyes boring into Sakumo's eyes when he looked up. "I am not so convinced," he said coolly. "Sayuri-san could have caused much more damage to their forces if you and Gatsu-san had allowed her to finish her task."

Sakumo's eyes narrowed. "We couldn't have stayed any longer. If we had, we all would have been killed. Besides, the explosion should have been large enough to kill the representatives."

"Obviously, it wasn't," Danzo said dryly, "I wonder if, perhaps, you allowed your emotions to cloud your judgment, Sakumo-san, and pulled out too early."

Sakumo grit his teeth. "There were a hundred and sixty Rock-nin in the camp," he ground out, "And most of them were trying their hardest to kill us. Even if we had stayed longer, we couldn't have held them off long enough for Sayuri to finish what she wanted to."

"So you believe," Danzo snapped, "But you didn't even try, so we will never know, will we, White Fang?"

Sakumo almost snapped back a sarcastic remark, but a glance at the Hokage dissuaded him. It would be unseemly to argue with a superior in front of the Sandaime. "No, we won't," he bit out tightly.

"Do you want to know what I believe, Sakumo?" Danzo asked coolly. He didn't allow the younger man a chance to respond—although Sakumo muttered a grumpy "No" regardless.

"I believe that you could have held them off long enough to finish the job." Danzo continued sternly, "Perhaps, in his weakened state, Gatsu-san would not have survived the encounter, and there's a chance that Sayuri-san would not have lived long enough to complete her jutsu. But you could have set it off just as easily once the markers were in place."

"You failed this mission because you were unwilling to sacrifice your lives for your village," Danzo finished coldly.

Anger flashed across the Hatake's face and his whole body stiffened. He only barely held himself back from attacking the dark man, and his muscles twitched with suppressed tension. "I would give my life for Konoha in a heartbeat," he forced out evenly, glaring wrathfully at Danzo, "I've risked myself for the village hundreds of times and you—!" He broke off as anger raised the volume of his voice. He breathed sharply once before continuing, voice under control again.

"At the time, the loss seemed to outweigh the gain," he ground out. "Whether we continued fighting or not, we couldn't have killed all of them. Whether we continued fighting or not, the explosions should have been enough to finish the job. Our deaths would have been meaningless, and I won't sacrifice my teammates for no reason. I believed we would be of more use to Konoha alive. And that is what I still believe."

Danzo laughed harshly. "Two invalids and a man who single-handedly declared war on Rock?" He demanded sarcastically, "What further use could you be to the village now?" A cold smile touched his lips, "Unless you're reconsidering my offer, Sakumo—in the shadows, you have no name. I think we could find a use for you, yet."

"That's enough, Danzo!" The Hokage interrupted sharply. "I didn't summon him here so you could accuse him of treason." He looked at the other man coldly, "And I didn't summon him for you to sink your claws into him."

He looked back at the Jounin. "Sakumo… for the time being, I believe it would be best if you keep out of sight. Missions will be sent to your house and you will be brought anything you need. Until the village works through its initial shock at the news, it will be best for all parties if you aren't around to be given the blame."

Sakumo opened his mouth to object—because it wasn't his fault. Rock was obviously looking to start a war with them, and it would have happened sooner or later whether this mission had been a complete success or not. All he'd done was his best to save the members of his team.

"You're dismissed, Sakumo," the Hokage inserted before the younger man could say anything.

Frowning and sweeping a narrowed gaze between the two men, Sakumo reluctantly obeyed.


	3. In The Night

The Root of Betrayal

_R. Winters_

Disclaimer: Don't own it.

So… it's been a while since I've posted anything… sorry that my updates have been about as far from regular as it's possible to get while still stringing you all along, but I don't see it changing any time soon. If you're only reading this to find out what's going on with _ETB_, the next chapter will probably be up in about 2 weeks. Maybe less. If you're reading this to get to the story below, then I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 3 – In The Night

"Why do we have to do this if we already know I have the Lightning Nature?" Kakashi asked, frowning at the small, blank card his father held in front of him.

Sakumo smiled slightly. "Because we don't know, Kakashi. It's true that for generations, the Hatake have been known for their Lightning Jutsu, but your mother had a Water Nature. You might take after her."

Kakashi frowned dubiously up at him for a moment. The rare topic of his mother didn't even faze him. He shook his head, "After all, I'm your son, Otousan."

"We're still doing the test," Sakumo chuckled. "It could be detrimental to your development to train you in something you're not ready for."

The little boy rolled his eyes but took the card. He frowned down at it and hesitated, glancing briefly back at his father. "If I'm not Lightning Nature, can I still use the blade?"

"Shinobi can often develop a second nature," Sakumo confirmed, "We'll teach you every lightning jutsu known to Leaf, and it'll develop on its own in a few years."

Taking a deep breath, Kakashi looked at the card again and concentrated. He allowed a tiny bit of his chakra to run through his body, up his arm, and out of the palm of his hand. His skin tingled a little and the card in his fingers abruptly crumpled.

Kakashi grinned up at his father, "Lightning!"

Sakumo chuckled. "It's as I thought." He held out his hand and the boy gave him the card back. The man's smile stretched just a little wider. "It's damp."

Kakashi frowned up at him. "It's still lightning," he insisted.

"You probably have a weak secondary Water Nature," Sakumo said, "But, yes, your primary nature is lightning. So, let's get started."

"Yes!"

Without waiting for his father, the six-year-old leaped off of the back porch and ran several paces away from the house, until he was in the middle of the large clearing behind the house that he'd used for training ever since he could remember.

Sakumo had finally given into Kakashi's request for training when the boy had announced that his teacher gave him the day off. The man was dubious about the truth behind his son's words, but had decided that he owed it to his son to ensure he was ready for the war that was coming.

He followed after the six-year old, drawing his tantō as he approached.

"This blade was specially crafted for my grandfather, Hatake Hajime," he told Kakashi, "He passed it down to my father, who passed it down to me, and I will pass it to you, when you're old enough."

Kakashi's dark eyes were bright with curiosity as he eyed his father's famous chakra blade. "Was Hajime-ojiisan called the White Fang, too?"

Sakumo chuckled, "No. My grandfather never became famous for it, but that was only because anyone who saw him use it ended up dead before they could pass the news."

"Was he an ANBU?" Kakashi asked eagerly.

The Jounin shot his son a sharp look, "Where did you hear about ANBU?"

The boy grinned, lodging his hands behind his head. "I hear things, Otousan. The ANBU are Hokage-sama's secret forces."

"ANBU are a dark group," Sakumo added sternly, "Mostly, it consists of assassins, and shinobi with specialties to do things that are considered immoral in the general shinobi ranks."

"Was Ojiisan an assassin?" Kakashi asked eagerly.

Sakumo frowned at him and shook his head. "That's enough. They perform an unfortunate but required service for the village, that's all. It isn't something to talk about." He held out the chakra blade. "This tantō is unique in that it allows us to channel chakra through it without hand seals," he explained, "It's easy to learn, but difficult to control."

* * *

"That's enough Kakashi," Sakumo interrupted an hour before noon.

The boy looked up at him, face flushed, sweat beaded on his forehead, and dark eyes hard and protesting. "Otousan, I can—"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Kakashi," he said sternly.

"I'm not tired," the boy grumbled, but obediently handed his father's tantō back to the man before crossing to the porch to retrieve his canteen.

"It'll hit you in a minute," Sakumo assured him, examining the short sword briefly before returning it to its sheath.

Kakashi took another drink from his canteen and picked up his father's, starting over towards the man. Sakumo glanced up when the boy abruptly stopped, distrustful eyes focused somewhere behind him and a little to his left.

Sakumo turned slowly, muscles tense. His eyes narrowed. "Why am I not surprised?" Without looking backwards, he called over his shoulder, "Kakashi, wait for me inside."

"He's a good boy," Danzo commented, eyes following the young Chuunin's path. "He'll make an excellent shinobi."

"He is an excellent shinobi. My answer hasn't changed, Danzo-sama," Sakumo said tightly.

"I wonder how Kakashi will react when he hears his father is responsible for this war," the man mused.

"He'll know it's a lie," Sakumo dismissed. He crossed his arms, "Has it been made official, then?"

"They've issued a private statement to the Hokage," Danzo supplied, "However, we are abstaining from a wide-spread announcement until the Genin Exams are over."

"Mm. So why do I have the pleasure of being the first informed?" Sakumo asked.

"I thought you would want to know," Danzo replied, "Since you are partly to be credited."

"I know you, Danzo, you aren't exactly known for your consideration," Sakumo said sarcastically.

The slightest smile turned up the corners of the man's lips. "Perhaps you're right. I also have a mission for you."

"I take missions from the Hokage," Sakumo countered.

"Semantics," Danzo excused, "The Hokage has appended his approval to this, as well." He removed a scroll from his robe, sealed with a plain black circle.

Sakumo scowled. "I'm not ANBU. I don't take those sorts of missions. You have your own people to do those kinds of things."

"But you do them better," Danzo said insistently, "Besides, a team would be too much to send for this, and you're the only man in the village who can do it alone."

Sakumo snatched the scroll unhappily and broke the wax, peeling it open. His eyes narrowed and he glanced up. "This really will start a war."

"But we won't be the ones declaring it," Danzo said, "And you won't leave any evidence of our involvement this time. You will be planting evidence to suggest it was committed by an agent of Suna."

Sakumo frowned dubiously and crossed his arms. "Blaming it on their estranged ally is risky."

"No one will believe we were involved in something like this," Danzo dismissed, "And Suna has been known to go to these lengths in the past."

"… I want to talk to the Hokage about the details before I leave," Sakumo said tiredly. He couldn't refuse a mission, even if it was distasteful.

"You are not to go into the village proper. Besides, there is no need—there are no details to work out," Danzo countered, "Kill them and ensure that Rock will be preoccupied with the investigation for at least a week."

Sakumo sighed, running a hand over his hair. "When?"

"You will leave tonight," Danzo said, "I doubt I have to tell you, but don't be seen leaving."

* * *

Hasoko Shichiro's estate was near the edge of the Village Hidden in the Stone. As implied by his name, Obake no Iwagakure, the low, crawling house was surrounded by tombs. The Hasoko family had once been the keepers of Rock's largest graveyard, and it was said that the fallen shinobi buried there had taught them their techniques.

But that wasn't why Shichiro was called the Ghost of the Village Hidden in the Stone.

Sakumo cursed softly as the other shinobi disappeared, his body becoming no more substantial than the fog crawling over the grave-markers. He spun, tantō held tightly as his eyes scanned for the enemy.

"So, Konoha's White Fang comes during the night," the drawled voice seemed to come from every direction and nowhere at all. "Like some common criminal, hoping to kill me in my sleep, is that it?"

"I wouldn't expect a shinobi of your caliber to be caught unaware, even if you had been asleep," Sakumo replied, his own voice sounding almost casual despite the hard pumping of blood through his veins. Every sense was on alert and he spun again at the faint sound of shifting soil.

He'd run into the other man when he'd stepped on the first grave, despite it being a little past two in the morning. Sakumo wasn't sure that he ever slept.

Nothing but empty graveyard stretched before him. The Ghost was as unsubstantial as his namesake and the Genjutsu he wove around himself was even said to elude the Sharingan users of the Uchiha clan.

Sakumo didn't put stock in rumors, but Shichiro's attack came out of nowhere and it was pure instinct, honed on the battlefield of the Second Secret War that threw the Jounin to safety before a sleek, curved blade cut through the fog where he'd just been standing, its steel glinting violet in the moonlight.

Shichiro pressed his advantage, long, lanky limbs swinging in tireless, graceful arcs as Sakumo was forced to retreat, his own blade blocking in clashes of metal.

The White Fang's eyes were sharp and fast—one, two, three—there was the opening. Blocking in the same manner he had before, Sakumo abruptly shifted his retreating momentum forward, throwing his whole body into a thrust.

There wasn't even the usual smoke that indicated the use of Ninjutsu. The Ghost simply vanished as if he had never been there in the first place. Sakumo retreated another step, glancing around warily, and his spine tingled with alarm when something brushed against his back.

He spun, but it was only a stone cross, marking the grave of someone who had undoubtedly been important twenty years ago, now forgotten to the ground.

It wasn't a location Sakumo would choose for a confrontation with the Obake no Iwagakure. The Hidden Village was too near, and any technique Sakumo attempted to use against the heavy fog would be spotted by guards immediately and his mission would be ruined. The fog may or may not be connected to Shichiro's technique, but it certainly didn't help Sakumo any.

Shichiro took the opportunity to charge again, with no more notice of his arrival than he'd given the time before. Again, Sakumo was forced on the defensive, blocking until he could make an opening—which only instigated another vanishing act on the part of Ghost.

Twice more, Shichiro attacked seemingly out of nowhere, and he and Sakumo locked blades again and again. The Rock-nin pressed close when their blades met, the steely lines of his face inches away from Sakumo's, his violet eyes bright and malicious.

"Is this really the extent of the White Fang's skill?" He demanded, pressing harder.

Sakumo gave in to his pressure for just an instant, off-balancing the man, then ducked under the blade and slashed again at the other shinobi's body.

His breath seemed loud in the silence of the graveyard, once Shichiro had vanished. Sakumo moved slowly, senses on the alert because as much as he was called Obake, Hasoko Shichiro was very much a man, and even his jutsu had a tell. His first instincts had been correct—the Ghost's technique was very closely tied to the fog; probably a combination of Water and Wind Nature.

The Jounin's eyes moved sharply across the landscape and when he spotted a slight thickening of the fog on the peripheral of his right side, Sakumo reacted immediately. There was no room for error; if he was wrong, he would be leaving himself wide open for attack on his left.

Of course, he wasn't wrong.

Shichiro solidified in front of him, sword sweeping down a fraction too late and his eyes wide with the realization of his mistake. Sakumo's blade was already burning with white flames and his strike thrust true.

It all happened in an instant. Blood slowly began to leak onto Sakumo's fingers and Shichiro stood, frozen in disbelief. He burst into action when Sakumo moved to finish him.

Shichiro jerked backwards, his left leg swinging up towards Sakumo's chin. Sakumo pulled back for an instant, avoiding the other man's foot, before immediately continuing to press the attack.

Sweat beaded on Shichiro's forehead and already his face had turned a shade paler, blood soaking the front of his dark blue gi. Sakumo palmed a kunai in his left hand, and used it to slash at the weakened man while blocking the other man's attempted returns with his tantō.

An upward slice caught the Ghost across the chest and he nearly tripped over a tombstone, just barely maintaining his footing. Sakumo continued to press, his own attacks coming faster and faster even as Shichiro focused more and more on blocking.

Sakumo noted the thickening fog with unease but didn't let up on his attack, connecting several times to rip apart the other man's chest. Finally, Shichiro lost his footing, falling to the ground. Sakumo moved to finish him, but the Ghost was already rolling back to his feet, several feet away, violet blades crossed and fingers forming a seal.

"Doki Danmaku!"

Eyes widening, Sakumo let his kunai fly at the man before leaping back. Something hit him—he didn't catch a good view of it—and a wave of icy cold washed through most of his left leg and part of his right, knocking him out of the air to smash brutally through several grave-markers and crash heavily into the ground.

He blacked out, for just an instant, and when he came to, he was lying on the ground, and he couldn't move his left leg at all.

Glancing around quickly, the White Fang located his tantō, and stretched for it, dragging himself until it was within his reach. He surveyed the graveyard. He couldn't see whatever had hit him, and he couldn't see Shichiro, either.

Feeling uneasy, Sakumo grabbed a nearby tombstone and used it to support his weight as he dragged himself to his feet. Neither of his legs seemed to want to work properly. His left refused to respond to his commands at all, and his right ankle was completely immobile, sending numb sparks up his leg as he tried to balance a portion of his weight onto it.

Leaning heavily against the tombstone, Sakumo looked around again. He could make out Shichiro's slumped form some distance away through the thinned fog. Taking a deep breath, he grit his teeth and pushed away from the grave marker.

The Jounin managed one graceless, stumbling step before falling, his left leg refusing to hold any weight and his right hardly doing any better. The man cursed under his breath and sat back, examining his shin just above his sandal.

The skin was pale and cool to the touch of his fingers, which seemed to send small shocks dancing across his skin anywhere they touched. Taking a deep breath, Sakumo held it, and placed his entire palm on the frozen flesh.

The sudden heat sent shocks of pain through his nerves, but when he pulled his hand away again, it didn't seem to have warmed his leg at all, and his fingers were numb from cold.

"Damn it," Sakumo grumbled, rubbing his hands together swiftly before he lost all feeling in his digits. "What did that jutsu do to me?"

The Jounin half-dragged himself across the graveyard, using tombstones to stumble along upright as much as he could until Shichiro was laid out at his feet.

The Ghost was wheezing and trembling, blood smeared across his lips and the black hilt of a kunai protruding at an awkward angle from his ribs, shifting with every labored breath the man took. Shichiro shuddered again and let out a breathy laugh, violet eyes rising to meet Sakumo's under a sweaty mass of limp black hair.

"You… put up a good fight," the Rock-nin's tongue stumbled heavily over several of the words and his voice shook. "But you… won't escape."

Sakumo snorted, "You've underestimated me again if you think an injury like this will stop me. It would've been bad if your jutsu had taken out my arms, but since it's only my legs I can still see this mission through."

Shichiro's eyes narrowed and a frown pulled at his lips, a small trail of blood leaking from the corner. His fingers tightened around the hilt of his short, curved sword, the only one he'd managed to take hold of. Sakumo didn't wait to see what he was planning on doing with it.

In one swift motion, the White Fang had drawn a second kunai and thrown it, the sleek blade hitting the Ghost's skull with a wet _shunk_. Violet eyes widened and his weak arm jerked slightly before his body gave in to the demands of nature and dragged him out of the conscious world.

His entire body slumped, but the slight movements of the kunai still embedded in his chest indicated he was still alive. Sakumo didn't plan to be the one to finish him off. A skilled medic might be able to keep him alive for a little while, but his injuries were fatal, and he was unlikely to ever regain consciousness again. Even if he did, he wouldn't be able to report the events of this night; not with the damage his brain would suffer.

Gaze flicking anxiously across to the quiet village just a short distance away, Sakumo stumbled and dragged his way through the graveyard again in a slow, awkward, stumbling gait.

He drew to a stop at the far edge of the clearing, leaning heavily against one of the last few tombstones around him. Breathing a little heavily from the unusual form of exertion, he reached into a pouch on his belt and drew out his summoning scroll.

Biting his thumb, he preformed the hand seals quickly and in an instant a large, black bulldog missing part of his right ear loomed in front of him. He smiled thinly under his mask as the bulldog looked him up and down appraisingly.

"I know I look like crap," Sakumo said quickly before the dog could insert his own opinion. "And I know you're not a horse, but I need a ride."

The dog released an unhappy snort, backing away a step. The Jounin frowned at him.

"I'd walk myself, except that my legs aren't exactly in working order right now," he said dryly, "I've got a mission to finish and I'll need a quick getaway. You are the fastest in the pack, after all." Which wasn't technically true—he was among the biggest, but nowhere near the fastest—but flattery always went far.

With a grudging expression, the large bulldog shifted closer again, one slow step after another until Sakumo was able to reach him.

The Jounin stowed his scroll away again and awkwardly hefted himself onto the dog's muscular shoulders—the bulldog growled a complaint and Sakumo attempted to shift into a more comfortable position for both of them.

"One thing left to finish before we go," Sakumo said grimly, looking across the graveyard to the Hasako Estate. His stomach churned rebelliously inside of him and the man forced down his unease. "Take me closer to the house."

Sakumo clung to the dog's thick neck as he bounded forward, leaps surprisingly graceful for all of his mass.

"Circle around it and then cut away from the village and run south," the man ordered, already beginning a string of hand seals.

"Fuuton: Daikazeryuu!"

Sakumo jerked down his mask and a torrent of destructive, gale force winds exploded from his mouth, battering the old-styled house. Walls collapsed and framework splintered, destroying the stability of the building.

Even before the bulldog finished his circle, the roof was collapsing and Sakumo tried to ignore the sharp screams echoing from inside the house.

Torches blazed into existence further in the village and Sakumo's companion was already loping away, the Jounin pulling his mask back up and reaching down to cling to the dog again before the powerful muscles could buck him off.

Between the racket of the collapsing house and the shouts of approaching shinobi, Sakumo and the bulldog were chased by sound. The dog's massive limbs moved faster as he gained speed, feet thudding against the dirt with jarring force for his anxious passenger, every connection threatening to throw the man free.

The noise, which had risen in volume, was quick to fade away again as they left the village and their potential pursuers fell away. The bulldog put several kilometers between them and the estate before obediently veering south, his gait long and even.

* * *

Sakumo's left leg was still numb and just barely functional when he made it back to the village two days later, after taking a long, round-about detour through parts of Wind Country and spent the better part of an evening attempting to sneak a bear-sized dog past posted guards. By comparison, Konoha's security seemed almost easy. Then again, he knew it like the back of his hand.

The big bulldog landed on the top of the Hokage Tower with a clatter and Sakumo dismissed him, a single jutsu teleporting him into the room below. The Sandaime had obviously sensed his arrival, because he was at the door, hustling a pair of Chuunin out of the room—Sakumo barely caught a glimpse of their backs before the door was shut. When he looked at the Hokage again, the older man wore a deep frown.

"I see," he said after a long moment, shuffling back towards his desk and collapsing tiredly into his chair. "Danzo mentioned that he had found the perfect team for that mission—he didn't say that he'd sent you."

Sakumo scowled under his mask and hobbled ungainly to the desk to drop his mission scroll in front of the Hokage. "There's a reason I didn't join ANBU, Hokage-sama," he snapped tersely, "I won't accept this sort of mission in the future."

It left a bad taste in his mouth, to go into another man's house and kill him where he lived. He didn't know whether the Obake no Iwagakure had any family, but his heart ached at the thought that he might have burned them alive.

"I don't expect that you will," the Sandaime agreed soberly, "And you will have my complete support." He frowned as he picked up the scroll, "Danzo needs to learn that he is not the one in command of this village."

Sakumo sighed and sank into the chair opposite the Sandaime, propping his left leg out in front of him.

"The mission was a success, I take it?" The Hokage asked at length.

Sakumo grunted an agreement, then reluctantly elaborated. "Obake no Iwagakure was alerted to my presence early on in the mission. He might not die for another day or two, but he won't be waking up to do any talking, either, and the rest of his household was destroyed. No one saw anything."

"Your leg?" The Sandaime prompted, glancing down at the man's outstretched limb.

Sakumo grimaced and stiffly shifted his leg a little. "Shichiro hit it with some sort of jutsu. It grazed my other side, as well, but I've slowly been regaining the use of both my legs. My right ankle is almost back to normal working order."

"You should have the hospital staff take a look at it," the Hokage directed, "They may be able to speed up the process; or at the very least, gain some understanding about the Ghost's technique."

Visiting the hospital was the last thing Sakumo wanted to do at the moment. "Is my oath of secrecy lifted, then?" He asked grumpily.

The Hokage considered for a moment. "It would be best if you continue as you have been. I will have a medic sent to your home. You should be able to rest there well enough; Kakashi-kun is away on a mission at the moment."

Sakumo considered, "When is he expected back?"

"The day after tomorrow, if everything goes well," the Sandaime replied smoothly.

The younger man nodded and pried himself out of the chair, awkwardly balancing on his mostly-healed right leg. "I'll send in my mission report with him when he returns."

The Sandaime nodded, "You may go." He smiled faintly, "Try to get some rest, Sakumo."

Sakumo didn't acknowledge the statement, but disappeared from the room in the same manner by which he had entered.


End file.
